


The Six Month Itch

by whopackedthese



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drabble, First Love, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Mini-Fic, New Relationship, New love, Sherstrade, anxious, argument, first I love you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 08:17:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7927426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopackedthese/pseuds/whopackedthese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>‘People do things to make other people happy when they’re with them. That’s how relationships work...'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Six Month Itch

‘...I don’t know, I can’t explain it. I just know; it can’t work,’ Sherlock said quietly. He blinked his eyes slowly, almost as if to emphasise his reluctance to admit the truth. Greg’s eyes didn’t move, though, and when Sherlock dragged his eyelids open again, brown eyes met his with intensity. 

‘That’s it?’ Greg asked, drawing down his mouth and shrugging up his shoulders. ‘You say it can’t work, and I have to accept it and move on, yeah. I’m supposed to forget that you’ve practically lived here with me for the last six months, am I?’ 

Sherlock dropped his shoulders, bothered by Greg’s sarcastic tone. He leant forward and rested his forehead against the bent fingers of his right hand, taking the weight of his upper body against the poised elbow he had teetering on the round, Formica-covered tabletop in Greg’s kitchen. ‘For the purpose of this argument,’ he flicked only his eyes up at Greg, standing at the sink with his hipbone resting on the surrounding countertop, ‘Yes.’ 

Greg leant back, and rested the palms of his hands on the counter behind him, physically bracing himself. ‘That’s nice,’ he fixed Sherlock with a glare and nodded his head slowly, flaring his nostrils as he breathed. ‘That’s really nice, Sherlock. I’ve already given up spending the day with my son tomorrow because I thought I’d be here, with you. I thought you needed some time, just the two of us...’ 

‘I didn’t ask you to _do_ that,’ Sherlock interjected quickly, lifting his head. He held out his arms, jutting them toward Greg with his empty palms held upward. ‘I’ve _never_ asked you to do anything like that.’ 

Greg rolled his eyes and let his head flop back a moment before he stiffened his frame and let out a growl, ‘People do things to make other people happy when they’re with them. That’s how relationships work. And besides, you did ask. You asked every time you got into my bed, every time you kissed me, every time we palmed one another off in my car over the last six months. So don’t tell me you haven’t asked me to alter my life for you.’ Sherlock’s breaths left his chest in short sharp bursts, and his blue-grey eyes searched Greg’s face for any sign that he was just angry, that he didn’t mean to use the accusing, harsh tone he was spewing with his words, but he couldn’t find it. Greg heaved a heavy intake of air through his nostrils and drew his cheeks in. He thrust his tongue into the inside of his bottom lip before he spoke again. ‘What changed your mind?’ he asked, his voice lowering so quickly that Sherlock feared he may begin to cry. 

‘My mind hasn’t _changed_ ,’ Sherlock told him nervously, ‘It just feels too close.’ 

Greg pursed his lips, ‘Too close?’ 

‘I’m not exactly a people magnet,’ Sherlock stiffened his back, ‘And I like it that way. Except for you. But even being here, with you, feels like it’s all too heavy; it feels like it’s too much. I’m overwhelmed, I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never lo…’ He jammed his mouth closed and Greg’s brows rose high up his forehead, bending creases into his skin. Sherlock stared at Greg like he’d just said something incredibly offensive, his body braced for a mortal blow. His eyes were wide and afraid, and he held his forehead in his hands as he breathed unsteadily, trying to find composure within himself. 

Greg moved slowly across the kitchen, closing the distance between them. He moved around the table and crouched down, his knees were spread wide and all of his weight balanced on his toes, and he craned his neck until his brown eyes crashed together with the fear in Sherlock’s steely stare. ‘It’s OK,’ he said quietly, resting his left palm on Sherlock’s nervously bobbing right thigh. 

Sherlock flicked his eyes down to Greg’s hand, able to feel the pulsing heat beneath each digit. He looked up again and shook his head, ‘It isn’t,’ he said. 

Greg smiled and nodded his head, finding their slightly back-and-forth amusing, ‘Oh, Sherlock, it is. It’s OK, and it’s good. It’s so good. I love you, too.’ He removed his hand from Sherlock’s thigh and reached up, cupping it around the back of Sherlock’s neck. He eased Sherlock’s body close to him and pushed his lips into Sherlock’s temple, kissing him lightly through his curly hair. 

Sherlock turned his head up and met Greg’s lips with his own in a soft, light kiss. It took mere seconds for softness to become tender, and for tender to become passionate, but it went no further. Sherlock drew his mouth back, pushing his forehead to Greg’s. They stayed that way for a moment, breathing one another’s hot air, before Greg pushed up to his feet. He held his hand out once he stabilised himself and waited for Sherlock to take it. Once he did, he pulled the younger man to his feet. 

‘What?’ Sherlock narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to figure his next move. 

‘Let’s go to bed,’ Greg said quietly, his voice throaty with arousal. ‘You can _not tell me_ again that you love me.”


End file.
